


The Triumph

by Mangelina_Brolie



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangelina_Brolie/pseuds/Mangelina_Brolie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Q get to know one another. They talk about their past and their future. Something unexpected happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Triumph

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Al](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Al).



> To my friend al, you dirty Daniel Craig lover you. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is a work in progress, so if what you read piques your interest know that this story will have 5-6 chapters.

1

A Midnight Encounter

 

Q stood in front of a computer terminal with his hands on his waist. He noted the time: 11:56pm. The hot resin needed to cool for about two hours. He walked to a counter near the terminal. There sat a wide and shallow plastic apparatus with small tubes running in and out, and in the center was a mold formed between the two clear pieces that made up the container. A coagulated, clear green mass was in the softball sized mold. Q looked closer and admired the hundreds of strands of wire, the various sensors, and of course his new high energy density power supply unit that was inside the cooling resin. Bionics. Human and computer integration. Nature and computer integration. Strange albeit fascinating projects were being handed down to him from his superiors. Ever since they hired a new M it seems that the powers that be have become more progressive in their thinking, and more importantly in Q’s eyes, have recognized that their governmental organization is at least five years behind the times when it comes to cutting edge technology. Q knew all too well what he and MI6 were up against. 

I’d better get back to programming, Q thought to himself. He wandered to the desk across the room where he could sit down and hear the music better. Working at odd hours of the night was typical for Q, he seemed to be able to concentrate better, it just felt more natural. He certainly wasn’t a morning person. At the moment he was indeed being very productive even by his own standards. Someone will be impressed by the end of the week, he knew. 

He paused as he was walking. A noise? He stood silent and still in the middle of the large, open room. Banks of lights on the ceiling illuminated the room evenly in a daylight color temperature. Q was wearing slim cut charcoal colored slacks with a black sweater vest over a purple, fleur-de-lis patterned shirt. The sweater was from a shop near MI6 that only sells women’s clothing but he was pretty sure that only he knew that. Men’s clothes are usually too baggy. He looked striking standing alone, symmetrically, in the center of the long room, like it was a scene from some high budget movie. Chopin flowed quietly and pretentiously out of his computer speakers.

What was I doing again? Q wondered when he realized his mind had been wandering. Right, the program. Q jumped.

An unbelievable noise broke forth from the open door behind him, from what sounded like the next room to his right. The next room was the garage section of his lab with access to the outside. Not many people had access to this area after hours. Q couldn’t help being a little scared. He hurried to his desk and retrieved his pistol from the bottom drawer. They had issued him a Walther P99 upon his hiring and made him learn how to use it. He hated guns but recognized their utility. 

Gun drawn as he was trained, he walked out of the lab room as quietly as he could, listening. The noise he heard - he now recognized as a motorcycle engine. It wasn’t obvious at first since that particular motorcycle, he knew, had the exhaust manifold removed, and with the exhaust venting right out of the head it sounded like hell amplified a hundred times. 

“Cunt!” He heard someone yell behind the closed door. The engine shut off and he heard clanging as something expensive fell over. Q simultaneously dropped his arm holding the gun and his head, looked down and sighed. James. 

Q opened the door and took in the scene. James was straddling a black, vintage Triumph, noticed Q, saw the gun at his side, and started laughing uncontrollably. 

“You’ve caught me! I surrender!” He mockingly raised his hands at Q. 

“You should have warned somebody about this bloody thing.” James gestured sadly to his inner right pant leg which had a pretty serious hole burned in it. Q couldn’t help but laugh. James was obviously drunk. He hoped the burn hurt, a little at least. 

“Dare I ask what exactly you’re doing here?” Q smirked, safetied his pistol, and set it down on the counter by his side. 

“Oh... you know... was in the neighborhood... didn’t feel like calling a cab...”

“Let me guess,” Q began,

“You were out with some bird, you got too drunk, she went home and the only thing left for you to do was something obnoxious and dangerous.” Q looked at the motorcycle. 

“Am I close?” James said nothing but instead smiled rakishly. He pulled a flask out of his jacket and began unscrewing the cap. Q shook his head and walked to James, snatching the flask out of his hand. 

“If you expect me to let you out of here on any of MY vehicles then this just won’t do.” Q sniffed. Vodka? He took a swig. Vodka. 

“Hey! you little shit” James protested and held his hand out like a child begging for candy. Q paused then took another, bigger drink and handed the mostly empty flask back. 

“If I have to deal with you tonight then you’d better share.” James waved a hand in dismissal as he finished off what was left. 

“You don’t know me” James said, looking completely serious. Q had to laugh. James was blessed with the gift of unintentional charm.

“You think I haven’t seen some of your mission files, heard the stories? Come on James.” 

“Well why do you assume it was she that left I? Er... that she left _me_... by myself?” Q pondered this statement. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a question. 

“Well did she leave you by yourself? that is what happened isn’t it?”

“Ahh... piss off.” James retorted. Q honed in on his weakness like a bloodhound. The tables have turned. He was amused.

“The legendary, sexy, James Bond that can get any woman he wants... rejected! There’s a first time for everything I suppose?”

“Oh shut up... Carl... Clarence... Cock... (James counted the names with his fingers as he said them) what was it? Right... (another finger) Calvin!”

“I’m flattered that you can remember my name after a mere four tries, James Herbert Bond”. Q emphasized the ‘Herbert’; how james loathed it! James shot him a glance that would terrify children.

“Better than Calvin.” He said and raised his eyebrow, taunting.

“You’re such a child sometimes...” James got off of the bike and wobbled to his feet.

“It’s not like it was my fault. She was just no fun... I don’t want to date a bloody nun. Sorry for the pun!” James drunkenly paced around the motorcycle, twirling his index finger in the air in imaginary circles as he spoke. 

In spite of himself, Q did find James’ antics entertaining, and after all, there are worse things to have to look at than him. 

“You can ride the Yamaha home.” Q decided, and gestured to the matte black bike behind james.

“ But first you need to drink some water and sober up some.” Where did James sleep anyway? That is, when he’s not ‘sleeping’ - with some girl - which seemed to be most nights. Q thought to himself. Maybe this was a question he was better off not asking. 

James was bent down picking at the hole in his pants. The suit he was wearing was a very dark blue, almost black, with vertical grey pin stripes and a vest to match. It was fitted exquisitely, per usual, Q noted. The plain white shirt and wine colored tie provided a nice contrast. Q who is fanatical about fashion and clothing, considered James to be one of the best dressed men he has ever known. He wondered how he did it. Having a body like his didn’t hurt, he supposed. 

James glanced dejectedly back at the yamaha, wondering why it was there and what it was for. Stupid yamaha. He wanted the triumph. Or at least a BMW. Where was the BMW?

“Fine.” That was all James had to say for now, and Q led the way down the hall to the ‘secret’ kitchen he had created in an area between floors. Everyone that worked in the lab knew about it, but Q used the better to ask forgiveness than wait for a bureaucracy to approve something method and simply requested workers, who were told to order the supplies on his account and build a kitchen to his specification. With all of the money flowing into the lab nobody would ever question anything. But it’s not on the plans. 

Q and James stood side by side, facing a painting of the queen placed in a seemingly arbitrary location about the hallway. They both looked down, to make sure they were standing within the four by six foot rectangle outlined by a thin strip of stainless steel. Q pushed the queen’s nose and felt the canvas give slightly, then click. The floor under them, which was in fact an elevator platform, lowered smoothly into the ground until they found themselves level with a surprisingly broad and high ceilinged room that was the kitchen. They stepped off of the platform which Q designed to raise automatically after ten seconds provided nothing tripped the pinch sensors. They were alone. Q glanced at the bank of monitors near the entrance, each of which showed footage from security cameras placed about the lab (the kitchen, and perhaps only Q new this, was also a fortified panic room in case of emergencies). Nobody else was in the lab. 


End file.
